


Seven Uncouth Children

by mandyem92



Series: Spencer-Sophia Story [4]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: A little Gory, Bromance, Case Fic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Morgan Reid Bromance, Sequel, Wedding Planning, spencer-sophia storyline, wedding dress shopping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandyem92/pseuds/mandyem92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Highly respected people are slowly being killed off in Las Vegas. With the unsub leaving cryptic messages the BAU are called in to stop the unsub. As if a killer hiding behind jumbled words and immoral beliefs wasn't bad enough wedding plans are in motion and the topic of Sophia has once again found its way into the case. *Part 4 for the Sophia/Spencer series.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You should hear the riveting debates

**October 15th - Quantico, Virginia**

Reid sat at his desk, taping his pen aimlessly. He glanced at his watch and let out a loud sigh.

"Reid…why aren't you getting ready to go home? It's after 6 and you're more than done with your paperwork." Prentiss asked, grabbing another file off the rather impressive pile that sat on the corner of his desk.

"Nah. Give me a few files. I'll help you finish yours." He said smiling over at Prentiss. She quirked an eyebrow at him, leaning over hesitantly to hand him a file.

"You can have mine!" Morgan yelled out from the doorway of his office. He ran down the stairs and plopped down on the edge of Reid's desk.

"Sure."

Morgan stopped smiling, staring down confusedly at Reid. "Okay…what's up? You never willingly agree…" Morgan scrunched his eyebrows in concern, staring intently at his best friend.

Reid stumbled out an excuse "well…uhm…you see…" With Morgan staring down at him he knew he would give up. "Sophia's gone. She went to Richmond to meet up with her cousin Michelle and her mom to go wedding dress shopping. She won't be back till dinner time tomorrow."

"So?" Morgan asked, sliding off Reid's desk.

"It's weird going home to an empty house." Reid said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Awww! Listen to you, all domesticated. Just wait till you guys get married!" Prentiss laughed.

"You have your cats." Reid glared at Morgan. Or really, he attempted to glare at Reid but all he could ever conjure was what everyone always called his "kitten glare."

"Yes Morgan, because they're so good at carrying on a conversation. You should hear the riveting debates we get in to."

Morgan laughed and slapped Reid playfully on the back. "You know, you're getting better at the whole sarcasm thing. Why don't we have a boy's night? Forget the files."

"HEY! He was going to willingly help me finish my files. Don't do this to me, Morgan! I won't survive!" Morgan rolled his eyes at Prentiss and threw her file back on her desk, sparing his friend from what he deemed as torture only the government could come up with.

"Come on, it's quitting time. Grab your coat." Reid smiled sheepishly at Prentiss as he stood up.

"Enjoy the free time Reid. I was only kidding." Reid nodded and pulled his jacket on, throwing his satchel over his shoulder. He quickly followed Morgan to his car; he had long ago given up trying to tell Morgan that the subway was a perfectly acceptable way to get places and that he didn't need a lift every time.

"So what exactly does a "boys night out" entail? Does it have to be 'out' as in, at a bar or club? Can't it be…'in'?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so. I was gonna suggest that new bar that opened up a few blocks from here but we can stay in instead. Why don't we stop to get some Chinese and beer and we'll watch a few movies." Morgan smiled effortlessly at Reid as he came to a stop at a red light. Reid smiled back, turning to look out the window.

"Sounds good to me. As long as I can use real utensils."

"Right. Because eating with chopsticks is like foraging with number two pencils."

"Did you know that they are called number two pencils because of the hardness of their lead, which equates to the darkness of their lines? They actually are number one pencils, along with a two point five pencil, three and four pencil, though they are really only used for shading when completing pencil drawings. And-"

"You know Reid, you may find this hard to believe, but I actually didn't know that." Reid smirked to himself.

"Well now you do."


	2. The press is at our throats!

**Las Vegas Precinct – October 15th**

The sickly sweet smell of expensive cigars permeates the small office. The wooden floor seemed to absorb the smoky scent and let out a soft puff of the overbearing smell whenever walked on. On especially hot days the smell practically oozed from the seams of the floorboards.

Lt. Belladonna Orison opened the door, bracing herself for the onslaught of smells. She was a lithe, tall woman. Her legs and arms at first seemed too long for her short torso but she maneuvered them with such grace that she held an air of elegance that could render a boisterous room quiet. She wore her light blonde hair in a French braid that reached the middle of her back, showing off her long neck and ice blue eyes that were large for such a long, thin face. Overall she had a sort of elvish quality to her that always amazed those around her when they first met her.

She gently closed the door of the office behind her and turned to face the man sitting in the armchair behind the desk. He was a slightly overweight man, a small stomach protruding over his leather belt. He had white, thick hair that was accompanied by a thick mustache that fell over his thin lips. Perched on the tip of his wide nose sat a pair of metal-framed glasses. He smiled and stood up slightly, gesturing for Lt. Orison to sit down in one of chairs in front of his desk.

"Yes?"

"I really think it's time we call in some outside help. With Duchamps added to the mix LJ and I are at a loss. The press is at our throats, Chief."

"I realize that. I've already gotten screamed at by Coleson."

"The governor is getting involved now too? Why haven't we heard this?" Lt. Orison furrowed her eyebrows at her boss.

"Bella, I'm not holding anything back from you on purpose. I just got off the phone with Governor Coleson about a half an hour ago. He wants the BAU in on this now."

"The FBI? Wasn't expecting them. Why the big guns?" Bella said with a slight incredulous tone.

"Henri Duchamps is, or really was, an influential business man and the French government wants to know what happened to their former countryman."

"Good...When should we be expecting them?"

"I'll be calling them first thing tomorrow afternoon. Our killer seems to be sticking to a strict schedule and since he just claimed his last victim there's no need to call them out now. Besides, if we call them this afternoon they'll get here, check into their hotels and want to sleep a little; why waste their time? And it'll give you and LJ some time to get your files in order and set up a space for them" Breda answered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Bella stood up abruptly, the chair she was sitting in rocking slightly. "They should be heading down here now. I don't care about the supposed "schedule" that you all seem to think is definite. All it'll take is one change or impulse from our killer and we will have more victims than we have room for in the morgue! I'm sure our guy doesn't care about any damn schedule."

Chief Andrew Breda stared at her over his glasses, patiently waiting for Bella to calm down. He, along with her coworkers at the precinct, knew she had a fiery temper that, although it contradicts her ethereal appearance, somehow fit her.

"Please. Do not be so damn hostile towards them. Check your temper at the door."

Bella rolled her eyes and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She was perfectly well aware of her own temper and used it often to get information that she needed during cases. She also knew that she often let it get out of hand and only a handful of people tolerated her. One of those people was Lt. Liam "LJ" James, her partner of almost seven years, and the first person she saw when she stormed out of Breda's office. Nothing she did ever got him flustered and her hot-temper never got under his skin.

"What's going on?" LJ asked, pushing himself slowly out of his seat. He was a short but stocky man with a barrel chest and broad shoulders. He had a deep, baritone voice that naturally carried itself far beyond a normal voice. Physically, he was rather intimidating but his eyes were soft and his demeanor was quiet and comforting.

"Chief Breda called on the BAU." She said through gritted teeth.

"That's what we wanted...right?"

"Yeah! But he's waiting till tomorrow to call them! And then he had the audacity to suggest that we take time away from the case to get things organized for them! They're supposed to be called in to help with the case, not take away our time and energy."

LJ let out a quiet sigh and leaned up against his desk. "Calm down, Bella. It won't take that long to set up the conference room and put our files and papers in some folders for them. I know it'll feel like we're wasting our time but the easier we can make it on the BAU the quicker they can help us solve-" His calm voice was cut off by Bella.

"Don't lecture me Liam." She said his real name with as much anger as she could muster up. She didn't hate LJ. In fact, his quietness had started to grow on her. She found him rather calming. But it was times like this that she wished he would get passionate, take her side, get worked up, something.

"I don't mean to. Sorry. You know what, why don't you go grab the lunch that we ordered from Johnny's. It should be ready soon."

Normally Bella would resent the fact that he was not only ordering her around, but was pretty much sending her to run some damn errand. But she had learned early on that it was his way of calming her down. With a sigh she nodded her head and turned around, beginning to mentally run through a list of all the papers she needed to gather and organize in the next 24 hours.


	3. Sexy isn't exactly what I want

**October 15th - Richmond, VA**

Sophia opened the door to the large dress shop, holding it open to allow her mother Regina and cousin Michelle to follow her.

"Good morning!" A petite redhead said with a large smile, her cheery voice echoing through the open waiting room. "How can I help you?"

"Hi. I have an appointment to try on wedding dresses today. Sophia Maxwell."

"Yes! Come this way." The redhead lead them through a large room full of rows upon rows of dresses. They eventually stopped in the back of the store that was lined with dressing rooms, each paired with a plush couch and coffee table for guests to sit at.

"Jeanne will be helping you today." An older, short woman walked up, smiling at Sophia.

"So tell me what you're looking for?" Jeanne asked with a thick Italian accent.

Michelle jumped to answer right away before Sophia even took a breath in. "All lace, sweetheart neckline, tight bodice and some bling."

"No." Sophia said quickly, waving her hand. "No clingy-ness. No "bling."" Jeanne let out a little laugh as Michelle handed her a page she had printed out. On it was the dress that Michelle had picked out for Sophia.

"Oh! Take mine too!" Regina responded, handing Jeanne a paper as well.

"Do you have any requests?" Jeanne asked Sophia directly, holding a laugh back.

"I like lace and embroidery. I like A-line that flows from the hips. Something simple. I don't want anything strapless. And no designs below the waist. I don't like the crunching and the beading all the way through the dress." Jeanne nodded and walked away, leaving the three women alone.

"So...where is Spencer today?" Regina asked after two minutes of awkward silence between her and her daughter.

Sophia sighed, knowing exactly where the conversation was going seeing as they'd had it many times before. "He's at work the office right now. He texts me whenever he has a case so as far as I know he's still in Quantico."

"You know, his job is so unpredictable."

"I'm well aware of that mom. We've been together for quite some time." Sophia found herself suddenly wishing Jeanne hadn't disappeared so quickly to find the dresses. Or maybe had taken her with her.

"What if he gets called off to work prior to the wedding? Or if a case takes too long and cuts into the wedding itself!? What about your honeymoon? You are going on one, right?" Regina asked, setting down on the couch next to her daughter.

"Mom...

"What? I'm allowed to be concerned. I am your mother."

"Yeah but the concern is really unwanted. Spencer will be there. It is HIS wedding as well and he'll definitely be there."

"Try the dress I picked first!" Michelle yelled enthusiastically, sensing where this conversation was going and seeing Jeanne out of the corner of her eye. She knew her aunt had a knack for talking about the wrong things in public.

Sophia leaped from the couch, excited to escape her mother. But sadly Regina picked up her conversation where she left off as Sophia stepped into the slip that Jeanne had brought her to wear under the dresses.

"Listen Sophia, don't get me wrong. I love Spencer and I think he's perfect for you. But I really think he needs to get his priorities straight. What's going to happen when you decide to have kids? Which will take precedence, your family or his job? You guys are having kids, right?"

"MOM! This is seriously not the place to have this conversation. And why must you wait till I'm in the dressing room? If you want to have this conversation we'll have it face-to-face...IN. PRIVATE." She was starting to lose her patience and she knew Michelle could sense it.

"Okay! New topic! What are we getting for lunch?" As Michelle asked she heard her aunt sigh in frustration and Sophia sigh in relief.

"Can we not talk about food while I'm trying to squeeze into a tiny wedding dress?" Sophia asked as she wiggled the dress over her hips with the help of Jeanne.

"Squeeze? Sweetheart you are the size women would die for. You've got boobs, a waist, AND hips. I mean you could afford to eat some more and get a little more ass, but still..." Sophia smiled a little at her cousin's comment.

Soon Sophia stepped out in Michelle's choice.

The dress hugged Sophia's frame slightly below her hip before flaring out and ending in a long train. It had a heart-shaped neckline and embroidery all the way throughout the entire dress. Sophia cringed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She hated that her hips were flaunted, sticking out in a way she wasn't used to.

"You look so sexy in that dress!" Michelle squealed in joy.

"You know, 'sexy' isn't exactly what I want in a wedding dress. I want...'elegant.' I feel so..."

"Hot? Cuz that's what you look like." Michelle said with a smile.

"I don't know. I mean, I like the top. But that's about it." Sophia said with a shake of her head. She turned around to face her mother. "I'll try yours on next. Sorry Michelle." With that she walked back to the dressing room, Jeanne following close behind, not giving Michelle a chance to talk her into the dress. She knew her cousin well enough to know that she could easily talk her into anything, just as she did when they were younger.

"Don't count it out just yet. You gotta let it grow on you."

Sophia stepped into her mother's dress. She instantly loved the bottom of the dress. I was plain and simple from the hips down, fanning out beautifully around her feet. The top was covered in lace, a belt of embroidered fabric hugging her small waist. She slid her arms into the top of the dress, frowning slightly at the laced sleeves. She stepped out in front of her mother and cousin, unsure of how she felt.

"So?" Her mother asked expectantly.

"I just...I wish it didn't have sleeve. I LOVE the bottom half. And the lace. I mean, I could live with the sleeves." She smiled slightly at her mother and then turned around to see the back of the dress. "I'm not terribly thrilled with the way the back is cut. I'm not so sure about this." The dress ended in a wide V, the tip stopping at the belt.

"If you had a bigger butt that back would look awesome." Michelle quipped, earning a jab of the elbow from Regina.

"I like it sweetheart."

"You need to LOVE a dress, not LIKE it." Jeanne said quietly to Sophia as she watched Sophia turn side to side in the mirror.

"I don't know...I like it more than the first dress."

"Would you like to try the dress I picked out for you?" Sophia nodded, stepping back into the dressing room.

"Sophia. Has Spencer been involved in the wedding planning at all? I mean, you haven't really involved ME in it. I feel so left out. I don't want you to do this all on your own."

"The only thing we've done is reserved the church and the hall. Well, and a guest list yet. We haven't picked out any decorations or flowers or food."

"So you have a date?" Michelle asked, being left out as well.

"Yep. September of next year. We have an appointment next week with the hall to pick out the lay out of the tables and the food."

Sophia was so busy talking to her mother she hadn't even looked down at the dress she was wearing, or the fact that Jeanne had just finished zipping it up. She opened the door of the dressing room and stepped in front of the mirror. As she looked up at herself she felt as though her heart completely stopped.

Sophia felt tears begin to form at the corner of her eyes when she looked at herself in the dress. The A-line gown had laced loops around the neck and arm openings that lead to a embroidered bodice with a dropped waist. Above the heart-shaped neckline was a sheer material, showing off the winged embroidery that adorned the upper chest. At her hips the tulle flowed out, fanning slightly behind her. At the back, the bodice was sheer at the top, a small fabric button holding it closed at the neck line.

"Oh Sophia...you look..." Her mother stopped, placing her hands over her mouth. Sophia smiled and nodded, knowing exactly what her mother was trying to say. Their argument didn't matter anymore.

Sophia nodded, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "I love it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S MICHELLE'S CHOICE
> 
> theknot.com/fashion/y11419-sophia-tolli-wedding-dress
> 
> HERE'S REGINA'S CHOICE
> 
> theknot.com/fashion/5212-blu-by-madeline-gardner-wedding-dress
> 
> HERE'S THE DRESS THAT SOPHIA CHOSE!
> 
> theknot.com/fashion/augusta-aire-barcelona-wedding-dress


	4. When did I get so boring?

**October 15th - Richmond, VA**

The coffee table was littered with half-empty Chinese takeout containers and a few empty beer bottles. Morgan had his feet propped up on the corner of the table, a beer in one hand while his other lay comfortably on the back of the couch. Reid sat next to him with his feet tucked under him, his fingers drumming mindlessly on the arm of the couch. On the TV they were watching yet another movie that Morgan was "determined" Reid would like; "Now You See Me."

"Whatcha think so far Pretty Boy?"

"Surprisingly good actually. And their explanation of magic tricks aren't as inaccurate as I was expecting."

"Good. It's about damn time I find a movie you'll watch." Morgan watched as Reid focused back on the movie and Morgan couldn't help but think about how relaxed he felt. He could easily see himself spending every night like that.

Wait...what? Morgan's own thoughts caught him completely by surprise. Since when did I find this more fun than going to the club? When was the last time I went to the club? Pretty Boy and I went to Lynch's Irish bar last week. But we had burgers and I don't think I had more than two beers. And we left at like 2. Alone. Shit, when was the last time I took a girl home? When was the last time I got any? Morgan's mind started working faster than he'd ever remember it going.

I'm still happy, even without my weekend... excursions? Conquests? I'm not even sure what to call them. Hook-ups? One-night stands? I'm single. I should be living the bachelor's life! I WAS living the bachelor's life at one point...And I enjoyed it. Oh my god am I getting old already? I spend my weekends on my couch with Reid! When did I get so boring?! Except I'm not bored...I like spending time in the house with Reid. I like this...Fuck, when did I get so...domesticated? That's not so bad, right? JJ's got a family. Hotch has one. Reid's settling down too. Maybe I shouldn't be freaking out so much. Right? But I don't have anyone to settle down with. Reid's getting married. He'll be with Sophia all the time when we don't have cases. I'll be bored, at home, by myself. I won't have these boy's nights out anymore. Man! I'm so dependent on Reid for entertainment now! I mean, Reid's not going to want to spend his free time with me once he gets married. He's going to want to be with Sophia. And I'll be a boring, stay-at-home bachelor. I have no one to settle down with. What am I going to do with me free weekends? I'm not sure if I really want to go back to the clubs all the time. Son of a bitch...So much is changing now that he's getting married! Am I mad that he's getting married? NO! I like Sophia. She's perfect for Reid. But what if the wedding actually ruins everything? I should be happy for him. And I am. Right?

"DEREK!" Morgan jumped slightly, his beer luckily low enough not to splash out.

"Yeah?" He asked innocently before looking at the film. He had no clue what was going on. A character he was pretty sure he hadn't met was standing in an empty room, pretending to play a violin.

"He seemed a little...spaced out. You good?" Reid paused the video, turning to face his friend head-on.

"I was just...thinking."

"I was thinking too. We should try to make this like a monthly thing or something. Assuming the cases allow it. I mean, if you want to. We don't have to. I know you like going to the club and I really don't. So you don't have to spend all your free weekends with me. It's stupid, nevermin-"

"NO! I'd like that. But...don't you think, especially once you get married, that Sophia's going to want to spend the weekends with you when you're not a work?"

Reid shrugged his shoulders. "She drives down to see Michelle and a few college friends once a month for a game night. And you're my best friend. Why would she say anything about that?"

Morgan nodded silently, not sure what to say. "You know Morgan, my marriage to Sophia isn't going to change anything between us. I mean, I probably won't spend every free weekend with you. But it's not going to effect our friendship.

Morgan let out a heavy sigh. Of course Reid can practically read my mind...

"Morgan?"

"Since we're on the topic of settling down and whatnot..." Reid hesitated and Morgan glanced over at his best friend. Reid was chewing nervously on his lower lip, his fingers running back and forth down the neck of his half full bottle of beer. "Sophia and I were talking. And she mentioned that she wanted to plan a bride's maid shopping trip with her cousin Michelle, JJ, Garcia, Emily and her college roommate Lynn. And then she started asking about how once that's done we'd have to pick out matching tuxedos and I realized I never asked you...uhm...would you be my best man?"

Well now I feel like a total ass! Here I am questioning whether or not I'm happy for him and he's asking me to be his best man. God I'm thinking too much. "Of course! I'd be honored to. But are you sure you're ready for what that all entails?"

"I'm a little lost...?"

Morgan smiled, throwing his arm over his friend's shoulder. He ruffled Reid's hair before taking a swig from his beer. "I get to plan your Bachelor party!"


	5. I shouldn't have to get up

**October 16th, 6:30am - Quatinco, VA**

Reid rolled over with a groan, not quite sure what had woken him up. It took him a second to orientate himself, taking in the room he was in and the warm body next to him. He turned his head to the left; a cherry-stained nightstand was pressed against the bed, a black-shade lamp sat on top of it. Against the wall was a matching dresser, the top draw pulled all the way open. Morgan's guest room.

As he rubbed his eyes and turned his head in the other direction, he was greeted by a puff of air from Clooney's mouth. The Golden Retriever let out another huff and a snort, still asleep on his side. Reid stretched his arms above his head, finally becoming aware of what had woken him up. He could hear Morgan's voice and the distinct sound of draws opening and closing. Reid grabbed his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen before lying back down, hoping maybe he was getting ready for a jog.

"Reid. We've got a case." Morgan yelled, tapping on the bedroom door.

"Noooo..." Reid moaned, curling into Clooney, determined that if he fell back asleep maybe the incessant knocking from Morgan would magically go away. His eyes were still heavy with sleep and he knew that he'd easily fall back to sleep in a few seconds if Morgan simply walked away. Oh boy did he want him to walk away.

Sadly, Morgan was far too aware of Reid's extreme distaste for mornings. He could remember the mornings during out-of-state cases where he's had to literally yank the sheets off Reid and throw the lights on in a last ditch attempt to wake Reid up. And every time Reid would curl into himself and bury his head face-down in the pillow as if he was attempting to disappear into the mattress. With that in mind Morgan dramatically threw the door open, flicking the light on at the same time. Reid and Clooney both let out a pitiful whine similar to a kid throwing a tantrum, making Morgan chuckle at the scene in front of him. Reid's hair was sticking up in every direction and Clooney had successfully burrowed his nose into the mop of hair, the dog now on his back with his legs splayed out comfortably. Reid was curled into Clooney's side, his arm hugging the dog like an over-sized pillow.

"Clooney's warm. I shouldn't have to get up." He grumbled into the dog's fur.

"Sorry Pretty boy. We've got a case in Summerlin, Las Vegas. We need to be at the airstrip in an hour and Clooney needs to go out." With the announcement of his home city and the word 'out' both Reid and Clooney shot up from the bed, scaring Morgan slightly. "Go shower. I've got the coffee pot doing and I'm gonna scramble up some eggs with toast. Sounds good?"

Reid grumbled his agreement before grabbing the towel Morgan was holding out for him. "Remind me to text Sophia when we get to the plane; she's supposed to be getting back around lunch time today."

"Aye, aye!" With that Morgan opened the sliding door in the living room that led out to a large fenced-in yard, smiling to himself as the Golden Retriever bolted out the door, running to the back corner where a squirrel had just darted up a tree. He went back to the kitchen, glaring into the fridge's bright light as he began pulling ingredients out.

Reid sped through his shower, shampooing his hair and washing his body with a thorough efficiency that he's mastered after years of speed-washing prior to early morning cases. He dried himself off before rummaging through the closet in the guest-room that had a few of his older work shirts and dress pants. Running his fingers through his chin-length hair he walked out of the room, the smell of coffee filling his nose. He smiled widely as he rushed towards Morgan's outstretched hand which held an oversized mug of sugar-filled coffee.

"You ready to go after we're done eating?" Reid nodded his answer, not wanting to pull his face away from the aroma and hot steam that floated from his cup. His mind was quickly waking up, readying itself for whatever the case throws their way.


	6. It was the third of September

**Las Vegas – October 16th, 9:00am**

He sat in the driver's seat of his patrol car, his arm thrown lazily over the back of the passenger seat, fingers drumming along to the song playing on the radio. A large belly protruded from above his belt, pressing slightly against the black steering wheel. He hummed along as the lyrics and beat filled the car.

"It was third of September, That day I'll always remember, Yes I will, Cause that was the day that my daddy died." The drums echoed as he heard his partner let out a sigh.

"Your singing voice is as lovely as ever Morasky."

"Shut up Thompson. You're just jealous you don't have the voices of angels like me." He glanced over at a man who seemed to be his polar opposite. At 6 feet and 7 inches tall, Jonah Thompson barely fit in the patrol car. His seat was pushed all the way back and still his knees were pressing against the glove compartment. He was thankful anyway that he was "all legs" as everyone said because he knew if his torso was any longer his head, covered in thinning hair, would press uncomfortably into the plastic ceiling of the car.

"You mean devils, right?" Thompson said with a laugh.

Glancing at his watch that looked too small for his tanned and thick arm, Morasky let out a sigh and threw the car into drive. "Time for another round."

They drove silently through the suburbs they were assigned, turning the music lower as they each aimlessly gazed at the respective side at the houses on Bayonne Drive. House after house they were greeted by not single face.

"Looks like the McGreggor's got a new car...again." Thompson finally remarked, breaking the silence that had filled the car.

"Yeah. The Missus got into a car accident last week."

"Again?"

Morasky let out a loud laugh. "Well, if you drank as much as she did you'd crash a car or two."

"She's got how many kids at home? How the hell does she even find time to drink as much as she does? Better yet, how does Joe have the money to keep up with her car wrecking hobyb?"

"They have three girls. And Joe rips people off left and right. My first wife paid him to be her divorce lawyer. Half the money she sucked out of me went to paying him off. Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm not surprised your wife picked him. He was Lily Cole's lawyer when she divorced Mark. Everyone knew she was cheating and yet Joe got her a shit-ton of money. He's not Nichol's lawyer, is he?"

"Nah. He wouldn't take on a case he didn't think he was gonna win. No lawyer will ever win that case. The jerk beat the shit out of the kid for lord only knows how long. And, you didn't hear this from me, but I just heard that LJ asked for an arrest warrant for Nichol's wife. Apparently she knew what he was doing the whole time."

Thompson shook his head in disbelief and went back to looking out his window. This neighborhood was definitely on the wealthier side, the Queen Anne styled houses were accompanied by pristine lawns, flawless walkways and colorful gardens. No one was outside today on this surprisingly beautiful fall day. In fact, it was an eerie silence that seemed to fill this picturesque town that is typically filled with barking dogs, laughing children, sprinkler systems going on and off, and the occasional yelling wife.

Morasky flicked on his blinker, slowly turning left onto Thornbury Lane. They worked their way through the short street, making another left onto Enclave Court. They made their way away from the more crowded section of the neighborhood; Here the houses were farther apart as most of the owners had bought out their neighbor to make room for horses. The houses only lined the left side of the street, the right being occupied by a wooded section of land. It was in these woods that something caught Thompson's eye.

"Hey, pull over."

"There's something weird over there in the woods. It doesn't look right." Morasky shook his head, learning long ago to never question Thompson since his eyesight was far better than his. He pulled over to the right, throwing the car into park. Thompson stepped out of the car quickly, jogging over to the bright blue mass he saw propped against a trunk of a tree pushed slightly back from the tree line. When he reached it his steps faltered, almost tripping over his large feet.

In front of him lay a woman's body, or more accurately, what resembled a woman's body. Her body had just entered the second stage of decay. It was beginning to bloat, the skin stretching unnaturally over the gasses and muscles that were swelling in her body. Her skin was a disgusting, fungus-colored yellow, dotted with black bruises and broken blood vessels. Thankfully the skin hadn't ruptured, keeping the noxious gases and bacteria internally though it certainly didn't help stop the unbearable smells the filled the air. He watched with morbid fascination as maggots squirmed and overlapped each other, pooling at her waist, mouth, eyes, and the obvious stab wound in her chest. A few slipped from the corner of her mouth and dropped to the floor, their milky white skin contrasting against the cold, brown dirt on the ground. He starred at the face, something about it looking eerily familiar to him. It's like when you catch a glimpse of a person out of the corner of your eye and you swear you've seen them before no matter how hard you try you can't place them. He stared intently at the sagging face, zoning out till a voice made him jump.

"What the fuck is over there?" Morasky yelled as he leaned out the window.

Thompson stumbled backwards away from the corpse as if he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be, and usually is, utterly disgusted by corpses. "Uhm, we, we, we need to call Lieutenant Orison. I think we have another one."


	7. Seven Uncouth Children

**October 16th – Plane to Las Vegas**

"So what do we have?" Rossi asked, flipping open the file in front of him. The plane leveled out, the captain announcing that seat belts could be unbuckled.

"We've got three dead so far," Hotch begins as he walks around the plane quickly, handing out files. Hotch and JJ sat across from one another in the arm chairs while Prentiss and Morgan sat opposite them. Rossi and Reid sat slightly farther down the plane, Reid on the long couch and Rossi across from him on the shorter love seat. "Louisa Frankland, Jonathan Black, and Henri Duchamps."

"French. Fantastic…" Prentiss muttered under her breath, causing Morgan to let out a short chuckle.

"Frankland was taken on September 8th. She was found on the 15 th, 7 days later. Black was reported missing on the 22nd and he was found seven days later. Duchamps was taken on October 6th and his body was found, again, 7 days later. The ME reported that Frankland was dead for only 4 hours by the time she was found while Black and Duchamps were dead for 24 hours and 48 hours respectively."

"So our unsub keeps his victims for a week, dumps them on the one week mark, takes a week break and then starts over again." Morgan speculated aloud, flipping open the first file in front of him, cringing as he looked at the body of Louisa Frankland. "That's really specific. OCD? A strict job? I mean something has to be going on that makes him stick to his schedule so precisely." He looked up as Reid and Hotch nodded with him agreement. "Is he OCD about his victims too?"

"Louisa Frankland worked at Everette-Duvall Law Firm. Jonathan Black was a specialist in psychology; he was member of ASAM, American Society of Addiction Medicine, certified by the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology as well as by American Board of Addiction Medicine. Duchamps was a French businessman involved in a large iron distribution company that started in France and just opened a sort of "branch" office in Las Vegas to start selling out to US consumers."

"Black was a psychiatrist that specializes in patients with addictions, using Buprenorphine to "cure" patients. A lot of people have problems with such doctors. Fighting one drug addiction by giving them another." Reid shook his head and purposefully avoided eye-contact with all team members; he didn't even bother to hide it by looking the file or playing with his bag at his side.

"I'm a little lost." Morgan said, glancing between Reid and Hotch. Hotch shrugged his shoulders and waited for Reid.

"Dr Black, like most doctors in ASAM, prescribe Buprenorphine to their patients; it's a semi-synthetic partial opioid agonist. Doctors like Dr. Black use it to help wean patients off their addiction. It's commonly used for those who have a high tolerance to their opiate of choice. Granted itt's also used to treat moderate pain in non-opioid-tolerant patients. It's broken down into sub-groups. Buprenorphine HCI and Naloxone HCI are used for addictions. Temgesic is used to treat intense pain in N.O.T patients. Buprenex is placed under the tongue to treat acute pain in N.O.T patients. And Norspan and Butrans are used in patches, like nicotine patches, but for chronic pain."

Morgan stared intently at Reid throughout his little rant. He watched as his hands moved back and forth animatedly in front of his face, his eyes shifting around the plane. He wasn't sure whether or not Reid was ranting simply because he was Reid or if he was ranting to avoid the thoughts that would probably be running through his head once he stops thinking. Dilaudid. But Morgan knew those thoughts would go unsaid and that Reid would probably sneak out to go 'see a movie' or call up Sophia if it becomes too much. Pushing those thoughts aside, and hoping they'd never pop-up again, Morgan focused back on Rossi's voice.

"There's a lot of damage done to these victims. I mean, I'm not sure if torture is even the word: burns on the legs, stab wounds on the arms, rope burns on wrists and ankles, bruises everywhere, broken fingers. These murders were personal and most likely revenge-driven."

Morgan hummed in agreement. "It's not overkill though. None of these wounds are lethal. It's all towards pain and torture, not murder. What was the cause of death?"

"Cyanide poisoning." Hotch answered, looking around at the teams reaction. The only one who didn't seem terribly surprised was Reid. "Any ideas?"

"Morgan said that he's OCD yet their wounds are not consistent. Frankland has less wounds than the other two while Black has a lot more than all three. It's probably more likely that he has some sort of schedule to follow in his personal life. He also has to be a loner of sorts since the dumping and kidnapping follows a perfect schedule yet he can keep his victims for a week. That means no unannounced visitors, no family." Prentiss suggested.

"With the extent of this torture he's got to be sadistic. It's not a means of murder; he picked a quick and less personal way to kill them. He's doing it for enjoyment. And maybe that's why Frankland had less injuries. Either she wasn't giving him the enjoyment he wanted or she 'gave up' and stopped fighting." Rossi posited.

Reid furrowed his eyebrows, something obviously bothering him. Hotch glanced over to him as Rossi spoke, interested more in the facial expressions Reid was making than anything else. It was clear that Reid disagreed with something that had be said but didn't feel confident enough to say anything and Hotch had learned from experience that it's better to wait Reid out than to ask him now.

"All of our victims had a note attached to their body. One phrase was written on it; "Sju Ofin Barns." Our unsub has a calling card." Hotch finally said after watching Reid quietly for two minutes.

"That just sounds like jibberish." Morgan said with a small laugh.

"It's Swedish. It means "seven uncouth children." Maybe we're looking at an unsub who really believes in the 'White Man's Burder.'" Reid answered quickly, not looking up from the file in front of him. His tapped his fingers quickly against his bottom lip as he flipped to the next page still unsure as to what wasn't sitting right with him. It wasn't necessarily what Rossi said but something felt like it was missing. He stared at Louisa Frankland's file, sensing there was something there that wasn't right.

"Again, a little lost." Morgan said, poking Reid with his foot and drawing him away from his thoughts.

Reid sighed and looked up from the file. "Uncouth means lacking good manners, uncivilized, unsophisticated."

"Only Duchamps was a foreigner so it can't be anything about taking over or fixing other cultures." Hotch said with a shake of his head.

"The seven…think we should be expecting four more?" JJ asked, flipping over one of the pictures to read the crime scene notes.

"I don't think this signature really means anything. It makes no sense." Rossi said with a huff. "None of them could even be remotely described as 'children;' Louisa Frankland had a husband and two children, Dr. Black had three kids in their mid- to late twenties, and Henri Duchamps was 58 years old with an ex-wife and one step-son."

"Alright. We've got two days till another victim is taken. When we get there we'll meet the local LEOS before splitting up. Reid and Morgan, you'll go interview Frankland's family. Rossi and Prentiss, you two will go interview the co-workers of Dr. Black first and then see if you can locate his kids. JJ and I will interview Duchamp's the ex-wife and his business partner."

With that everyone went to their own corner of the plane, each differing in how they preferred to spend their last two hours.


	8. What are the dinner choices?

**October 16th – Plane to Las Vegas**

Reid had long since settled into one of the captain-styled seats facing backwards, finally finished looking through the case and making whatever mental notes he deemed necessary. "The Picture of Dorian Gray" sat open on his lap, his good leg tucked under his bad. Morgan sat facing Reid, his headphones pushed into his ears and his feet resting on the seat next to Reid. Hotch and Rossi sat more or less in the same manner in the other captain seats across the aisle though both men natural sat rod-straight. JJ and Prentiss had convened on the long that lined the one side of the couch, idly talking about some season finale they had both anxiously watched the day before.

Reid felt a foot nudge against his thigh, shifting his book slightly. Reid knew, though Morgan would never admit to it, that Morgan was as fidgety as a four year old after three pixie-sticks whenever on the plane. Morgan would deny it every time, claiming it was just Reid's imagination and that all his facts about common anxious reactions to confined areas lacking exits, escape routes or proper air flow did not apply to him.

The foot hit him harder this time, knocking the book out of his hands. "Oops. Now you'll have to take a break from that and socialize with me."

Reid sent Morgan what has been deemed his "kitten glare" before leaning down to pick up his fallen book.

"Be nice Morgan or I'll separate you too." Hotch said without even looking up the papers in front of him.

"And what exactly do you want to talk about, Morgan?" Reid asked dryly.

"Why the highly anticipated Maxwell-Reid wedding of course. I want an update. What's been done since the last time we talked?" With the mention of the wedding JJ and Prentiss's conversation came to an abrupt stop. If Reid had risked a glance in their direction he would have noticed the oddly placed face of disappointment that JJ was sporting.

_I guess he talks to Morgan a lot about the wedding. I don't even know where it'll be and it seems like Morgan knows everything!_

She would never admit it to anyone, especially Reid, but she was disappointed and a little hurt that Reid didn't turn to her to talk about the wedding. It's not like Morgan's gone through a wedding. Granted, she didn't like to pry like Morgan did but she thought her and Reid were just as close. She expected him to confide in her at least somewhat. But no. She was completely in the dark and just that thought alone hurt her feelings.

"Morgan..." Reid let out a little sigh. "Sometimes I think you're more excited about my wedding than Sophia and I are. We've got the church and hall booked and we've paid the photographer and the DJ. Some time next month we'll do the cake and the florist. I don't know if Sophia's dress shopping was successful or not; she won't tell me anything. She wants to go dress shopping for the bridal party and Henry hopefully within the next week or two so it leaves time for alterations or whatever."

"Henry?" JJ asked suddenly confused and yet excited; she finally got to be part of the conversation. She saw Reid's face suddenly turn a bright shade of red.

"I forgot to ask you...Really I thought maybe you'd say no and you can totally say no so I've really been just avoiding the topic altogether. Which I know isn't going to solve anything. And I thought maybe-"

"Spence, what did you want to ask?"

"Oh, sorry. We wanted Henry to be the ring bearer. If you're okay with that.""Henry would be so happy to be up there with you guys. That's so thoughtful of you two, really."

Reid seemed to blush even more at JJ's comment, hanging his head slightly so his hair covered his eyes. JJ stood up finally, sitting down next to Morgan. "Have you got a flower girl?"

"Yes! Michelle's daughter, Abigail. She's Henry's age actually. Sophia's all excited to get her into a dress because she's the quintessential tomboy." Reid relaxed slightly into his seat, leading JJ to feel comfortable enough to pry some more.

"Have you picked out invitations? I got the save-the-date card last week." JJ asked.

"I didn't get one yet. Last time I asked you two were still arguing over the necessity of sending one out since it's next June." JJ tried to hide her surprise at the fact that Morgan wasn't quite in the loop as she thought he was.

"Did you actually check your mail yesterday? You've mentioned more than once that you have a bad habit of not checking your mailbox regularly."

"Whatever Reid. So I guess you lost out?"

"Sort of. It turns out the invitation set we really liked came with save-the-date cards included so it would really be a waste not to send them out."

"So what are the dinner choices?"

Reid let out a sigh at JJ's question. "Ugh, can we not talk about that. It's some chicken dish, some fish dish and a beef dish. Sophia and I got into a huge fight because I missed the tasting."

Morgan laughed while JJ swatted his arm. The conversation moved smoothly from food to first dance to vows, none of which were answered, just debated. The conversation then turned to the church service and if Reid's mom was going to walk down the aisle prior to the wedding party. And just like that Reid seemed to deflate into his seat, his face downtrodden, making JJ feel instantly guilty.

"Yeah hopefully. I've been trying to get her comfortable with the idea of the wedding and everything. She's met Sophia a bunch of times and she's remembered her during all but one trip but it's the idea of having to fly to DC that's freaking her out."

"Are you going to visit her case?" Reid gave an indecisive shrug.

"You really should Reid. Take a few days off after the case." Morgan pushed, his voice sot yet encouraging.

Reid nodded slowly, biting the corner of his lip. "Well my dad is going to be flying out with her so I'm not sure how much me visiting is going to help."

"Your dad?" Morgan asked surprised to even hear Reid mention his father on the plane in front of everyone.

"We've been...talking..." He paused and rubbed his hands nervously up and down his thighs, unconsciously wiping the palms dry. "Since Thanksgiving Sophia's been a bit of a mediator. He keeps asking if he can visit. And I mean, it's not like he was an abusive or neglectful father when he was around. He used to tuck me in every night and buy whatever book I wanted and tried to teach me sports. I guess...I want to say it's too little too late but..." Reid's face scrunched as is if he had suddenly gotten a sour taste in his mouth. His lips twisted to one side, then the other in a move Morgan hadn't seen his friend ever do. "I feel guilty in a sense. I get why he left. I don't agree with it, but I'm trying to understand why. I guess I kind of do. And I'm trying to forgive him and he's trying to make it up with my mother and me. He visits her a lot now. I mean, I'm still mad and I'm not sure I'll ever let go of some of that anger and I've had this mindset that if he ever tried to apologize I would never accept but..." Reid waved his hands, trying to grasp at the words he wanted.

"It's exhausting holding a grudge for so long?" Morgan supplied.

Reid shrugged in defeat. "I guess. I mean, my mom's forgiven him. Everyone deserves a second chance, right? The benefit of the doubt? He's trying and that should count for something, right?"

There was a long pause before JJ actually answered. "I can't tell you what your father does or doesn't deserve and I can't honestly say I can relate. But I know you're a wonderful and loving person. I think your father should be lucky to have you in his life and to be getting a second chance with you. It's never too late to right a wrong in my own opinion."

Reid glanced at Morgan, knowing he had an opinion of some sort, especially since he had met his father face-to-face. "Listen, there are days I spend hours thinking about how I want my father back. Wish I could call him and tell him about my day or ask for his advice. But my father didn't leave me by choice. Your father is still alive. He left knowing full well what he was leaving behind." He stopped, rubbing her hand wearily over his face. He didn't like Reid's dad. Hates him if you really wanted to get down to it. But it wasn't his father. And it wasn't his place to say one way or the other. "Your father is still alive and still has a chance to fix what he did. Mine doesn't and I wish he was. I don't want you to lose that chance, regardless of whether or not we think he's worth it. It's what you think and we'll stand by you. If you think he's genuine in his attempt, then, I guess, go for it. Will he mess up? Probably. Will it be fixed overnight? Hell no. It's gonna be work but work that in the end could be worth it."

The plane fell silent, everyone's thoughts differing drastically from the person next to them. "You really should take a few days off to see them. You have more than enough vacation time." Hotch said suddenly. Reid's face, including the tips of his ears, turned a bright shade of red. He had honestly forgotten he was on the plane with his boss and all his co-workers. He was utterly embarrassed but before he got a chance to say something that resembles an apology for talking about personal matters one the plane the seatbelt light lit up and the pilot announced their impending approach.

"At least take two days. I'll make it an order if I have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, critiques and anything in-between are fully welcome and totally desired :)


	9. Way to be hospitable

**October 16th - Las Vegas, Nevada**

The plane's wheels hit the tarmac with a screech, the plane jerking ever so slightly as its momentum began to slow. Everyone was seated with their bags at their feet and ready to leave the second the plane was done taxiing into position. It took five minutes for the plane to maneuver itself into the emptied spot, everyone unbuckled and itching to stand up already. As the wheels stopped and the seatbelt light flashed off everyone immediately stood up, a few sighs of relief echoed as they stretched out their legs.

They fell in line as they stepped off the plane, Hotch leading the way to the rental counter to pick up the two black SUVs that they typically rented. Reid was stuffing his book back into his satchel as he walked, Morgan chuckling at the clumsy way he fiddled with the contents in there till he got everything to fit perfectly. JJ was texting Will to let him know they landed, smiling as he texted her back a picture of Henry asleep at the kitchen table, his head resting next to a half-full bowl of Lucky Charms. The team walked with a comfortable ease in their steps even with thoughts of the case looming in the back of their minds.

Before reaching the desk Hotch's phone rang loudly from inside his pocket. He shoved his bag behind him to reach into the pocket, answering the phone quickly. "Hotchner…Okay…Of course…we'll head there first…yes…thank you." Hotch hung up and turned to address the team. "Change in plan. We're going to regroup at the police station and meet up with the lead detectives. We've got a new victim."

"I thought we had two days?" Prenitss asked, repositioning her bag as it began to slid off her shoulder.

Hotch let out a heavy sigh. "Apparently not."

The police station was surprisingly empty; not a single person sat at the numerous desks that filled the large bullpen. A few officers walked against the back wall, none of which took any notice to the new comers. Above the open area was what looked to be a loft with two offices against the back wall, plaques plastered above each doorway, the first reading "CHIEF BREDA" and the other reading "DR. ESCARRÀ."

Reid pointed to the right door. "His name means left-handed in Catalan. Did you know that Catalan, although a language that gets its origins from Cataonia, the northeastern part of Spain, is also spoken on the island of Sardinia even though it's considered an Italian island, which isn't saying a lot since it is an autonomous region."

"I'm sure the good doctor would be thrilled to know that." Morgan remarked, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. Reid opened his mouth to inform Morgan that most people, at one time or another, research the etymology of their first and last names and that name meanings in one of the most common google searches, but was interrupted by Chief Breda's door being rather violently thrown open.

"Agent Hotchner!" Chief Breda's boisterous voice echoed in the empty police office. JJ immediately felt like she was staring at a man who, accompanied by a fake beard, would make the perfect mall Santa Claus with his slightly protruding stomach, white hair and comically small glasses that made his eyes look miniscule. "Let me come down and show you to the conference room where Lieutenants Orison and James have been organizing their information. Sorry that there's no welcoming committee; a huge riot broke out in front of a Woman's Health Clinic. A few pro-lifers got into with some of the employees and patients there and then all hell broke loose." As he finished speaking he opened the door into an L-shaped room.

"Nice to meet you all. Let's skip the longer introductions because the ME just finished the autopsy. Just call me Bella and my partner is LJ." Bella cut in immediately before Breda could even take a breath.

"Way to be hospitable." LJ said as he shook his head in disbelief. "We're not in that much of a rush. Why don't you guys put your bags down and then we'll head downstairs." There was an awkward, heavy silence that filled the room as Bella and LJ seemed to communicate through their eye movement before Bella sighed and gave in.

"Sorry. Just a little antsy to get this solved. It's been unbearably frustrating, having this killer still on the loose even after the time we've spent on trying to pin him down." LJ seemed pleased and backed off, sitting down in one of the many chairs as the BAU team all tossed their go-bags into one corner.

"That's perfectly understandable. This is agents Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss, JJ and Dr. Reid. I'm Agent Hotchner." Hotch motioned quickly through the team before pointing to the door. "Why don't you and I go check out our newest victim while the rest split up and go over the dump sites?"

Bella nodded and then threw a hand in LJ's direction. "Make sure everyone knows exactly where they're going; especially Duchamp's because his was a bit off the beaten path."

"Well Dr. Reid's from Las Vegas," Hotch started before turning to Reid. "You and JJ go to Frankland's. Rossi and Morgan, go to Black's and LJ and Prentiss can head out to Duchamp's site."

Bella nodded her head in agreement before pushing the door open, gesturing for Hotch to go out first.


	10. Not helpful Mr. Genius

**October 16th - Las Vegas, Nevada**

_REID & JJ – FRANKLAND'S DUMP SITE_

JJ pulled the car over to the side of the long, empty road they had been on. "LJ said it was somewhere back through the trees beyond that field." Reid said as he pointed to the right side of the road where a small field was lined by a thin forest of trees.

They made their way through the field slowly, scanning the dry, dusty dirty underneath their feet. "You know, if I remember correctly, this used to be an old, dying apple orchard. My mom said she used to go apple picking there every September with her grandparents."

"Did both your parents grow up in Vegas?"

"My mom did. My dad was born in Connecticut but his father got transferred out here when he was eight. He worked for Grumman as an engineer. Almost everyone worked for Grumman after World War II." He ended with a small, dismissive shrug and continued looking downwards.

As they made their way into the thinning woods, Reid stopped and glanced around him. "There's an orange flag where the body was discovered. The file says she was propped up, facing west, against a Pacific Yew tree, which I don't see anywhere in the area."

"I have no idea what a pacific yew tree looks like." JJ said as she glanced around her at trees that all looked the same as the ones next to them.

"It doesn't look much different than other types of yew trees."

"Not helpful Mr. Genius. How about a description of any ol' yew tree that way we can split up. I'll go left and you go right." JJ as she gave Reid a little shove. "Some times I wonder how Sophia puts up with you."

Choosing to ignore the comment on Sophia, Reid took a breath and began. "Taxus brevifolia, common name is pacific or western yew tree. It's regularly seen on the western border from Alaska to California and though it's rare in Nevada it's not unheard of. Some people have taken to planting them in residential areas because the branches lead to nice shade. Typically it's around 10 to 15 meters tall, or 32 to 49 ft. They can't reach about 20 meters in gullies but not around here. It's a low hanging evergreen conifer so you're looking for flat lanceolate leaves, or needle-like leaves that you see on most Christmas trees. This time of year they aren't flowering nor are there going to be any berries left so that's not particularly helpful. They grow rather slow so they often rot out from the inside so they're also known for having hollow insides but unless you're cutting them down, that's not very useful either. The bark is thin and scaly, with a substantial amount of off-white sap. In this area the trunk has an almost purple hue to it, which is usually the defining attribute of the tree."

"So a purple tree with needly leaves?" JJ repeated simplistically. Reid nodded in reply. "Well how hard could that be."

An hour later JJ wished she had never opened her mouth, that is until her cellphone rang loudly from her left pocket.

"Dear God, please tell me you found it."

"Yeah, I've got it. And a nice trail directly behind it, not wide enough for an SUV but you could probably get a small two-door down this way but it get pretty scratched up. I took a few photos of the trail and tree. No point in you walking all this way, any physical evidence is gone and it's a good thirty minute walk from the car."

"Sounds good to me. I'll meet you back at the car; It's getting around lunch time and I'm starving!"

_ROSSI & MORGAN – BLACK'S DUMP SITE_

As Morgan drove Rossi twisted the radio dial, not staying on a single station for more than ten seconds.

"For the love of god man, pick a station."

"Nothing good is playing." Rossi answered as he continued to spin the knob.

"How are you supposed to know if something good is playing if you don't get it a chance to play something for longer than a few seconds?" Morgan asked, his annoyance levels equal to his curiosity in Rossi.

"I have good taste. I know what I like the second I hear it. And commercials, rapping and electric guitar are not my cup of tea."

"You seem like a Tony Bennett or Rat Pack kind of guy." Rossi laughed instantly.

"Pretty close. Not a Tony Bennett fan but I love me some Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and some Johnny Mathis."

"Not bad. The only Sinatra song I have on my iPod is Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang." Morgan said to the surprise face of Morgan. "What? Don't look so surprised. I've got good taste and I little bit of everything. Some jazz, some soul, a little bit of classic rock."

Finally hitting a station playing Dean Martin's "Mambo Italiano" Rossi finally rested his hands in his lap. Only twenty minutes after leaving the precinct they had reached a vast county park by the end of The Drifters "This Magic Moment". Passing the empty, small ranger's shack at the entrance, Rossi directed Morgan through the gravel roads from the map on his lap. They were passed by two county workers in their golf-cart like cars, waving as they passed. Five minutes later they came to a stop on the side of the road just beyond an area designated for picnicking.

"His body was found a few feet from the west side of the road; there should be a marker on the ground from the police officers" Morgan said as he slammed the car door behind him, pushing his shades off his face as the hot sun was blocked by the thick canopy of trees.

On the ground, about six feet into the woods was a small, triangular orange flag pushed into the ground at base of a tree.

"So he dumped Black close to the edge of the road, far enough back that it was blatantly obvious but close enough that someone would eventually find him." Rossi speculates as he walks around the tree. "Morgan, go by the car and tell me if you can see me." With that Rossi lowers himself almost to the ground, not terribly interested in sitting in the dirt and ruining his Italian suit.

"The brush is sort of blocking you. If you weren't wearing black you'd blend in more. I can see your arms and head clearly but your torso is covered." With that Morgan walked back to the tree. "Driving by I would miss you. Taking a walk I'd probably see you or your hand out the corner of my eye. What I'd like to know is how he got the body here." Morgan paused, flipping open the file on the hood of the car.

"He could have taken a car. The gravel doesn't leave clear tire marks."

Morgan shook his head. "There's heavy foot traffic here during the day because of the dog park and picnic area, even in September."

"Okay. But the gates close at sundown. And there's no way he carried Black's body in his arm."

Morgan walked back to the tree. He glanced up and down the road, taking in the gravel road that gently weaves back and forth through the forest. Looking into the woods behind him he saw the thin, widely used trails for hikers. Taking a few steps towards the trails, he glances back and forth yet again.

"I think I got it."

_LJ & PRENTISS – DUCHAMP'S DUMP SITE_

"It's a pretty far walk from here; exactly at the midway point of this trail. The trail's used a lot by hikers and some bikes but it's not wide enough for a car." LJ parked the car, throwing the car door closed loudly.

"Well it's a good thing I didn't wear my good heels." Prentiss said as she looked down at her black heels.

LJ laughed and opened the back door of his pick-up truck. He pulled out a pair of hiking boots, handing them to Prentiss. "They belong to Bella. I'm not sure if they'll fit but it's better than you breaking an ankle and honestly, I don't want to carry you back to my truck and explain it all to your boss."

Prentiss slipped them on, the shoes slightly too tight but more than manageable, especially considering the alternative.

They started up a thin dirt trail that was heavily used by runners and mountain bikers. It weaved around the bottom of small hills, through densely forested areas, down and up a small crater-sized indent, around a small, natural lake and eventually ending back at the parking lot they had just left behind them.

They walked the first feet in silence before LJ decided he might as well strike up a conversation or else their twenty minute trip was going to be torturous. "Soooo...how's life in our great capital?"

"It's certainly never dull. Or quiet. It's beautifully quite here. Not what one would expect in when they think of Vegas."

"Yeah it's sort of like when you say New York and everyone automatically conjures up an image of Time Square. Once you're off the Strip it's actually sort of dull. Like a college town, the real-estate value was cheap when corporations decided to purchase the land and build up their little empires. And then everything around them became sort of slum-like."

Prentiss nodded, remembering how, back in college, you had the safe part of the town where all the college students went to and the no-gos where the locals lived.

"You said one of your co-workers, uh, Dr. Reid, was it? He's from Vegas, right?"

"Yep. Born and raised as far as I know."

"That must have been a big change for him. The weather alone is a complete 180." At this Prentiss laughed, recalling to mind all the times Reid has complained of being "freezing" while everyone else was fine.

"He's a bit more warm-blooded than the rest of us but we love him anyway."

"It's gotta be nice, getting to see all the US through your job. I mean, I'm sure you don't get to enjoy every city during cases but still. Sounds nice to me."

"It's got its perks. It's nice when we have a little down time between solving the case and catching our flight home. But more often than not we pretty much leave for home straight from the precinct." LJ nodded, letting a comfortable silence fill the air around them before he decided to ask another question.

"Can I ask for some advice. Feel free to tell me I'm out of line but there aren't many women in our precinct besides Bella and I'm not really sure who else to ask. Granted, we don't know each other at all but I might as well try."

"Go ahead. I'll slap you if it's inappropriate." Prentiss quipped back.

"Well. Bella and I...We have this sort of relationship hovering over professional and..." he paused and cleared his throat. "Otherwise. It's not frowned upon or anything here. We've got two married couples on the force. But I just...alright, I'll jut cut to the chase. How the hell do I know if she'll not punch me in the face for asking her out of a date?! Some times I flirt and she blushes. And other times she tells me to stop being unprofessional! I don't get it!"

Prentiss stopped in her tracks, unsure what exactly to say. "Have you guys ever...I don't know...hooked-up?"

"Oh god no! I don't think she would, I mean, she's not that kind of girl. We kissed, once, when we were drunk at the Christmas party. Like kiss-kissed. Not mistletoe kissing. So I thought she was interested. And then she went out and started dating some lawyer dude! I mean they didn't last long, but still. We've been partner for five years! I know her better than anyone else and I just can't figure this whole thing out."

"My philosophy? Actions speak louder than words. Show her how you feel. If she physically turns you down, then you've got a pretty clear answer. It sounds to me like she has feelings for you but maybe is unsure of it in a professional since. Especially since she tells you are being unprofessional."

LJ nodded, rolling the idea around his head. "So, is this advice coming from you as a woman or as a profiler?" He asked with a little smirk.

"A little bit of both I guess." They turned a sharp corner and LJ stopped.

"Here we are." They had finally reached the far side of the small lake where a small orange flag was pushed into the ground underneath a wide tree. Instantly clicking back into his professional demeanor, LJ ran through how and who found the body. "What I still can't fathom" he started, glancing around him, "is how on earth he got a body here. No car to carry it and I highly doubt he lugged Duchamp all the way himself. The dude wasn't exactly a lightweight."

"Well what's that trail, down there? That looks wider than the one we were just on."

"Oh that? It's for the park rangers. They take their ATVs up and down that back road. It leads to a small cabin and then eventually to the main road we came in on. But it's typically chained up unless a ranger's doing a round."

Prentiss looked over at LJ and then back to the road. "Twenty bucks says that's the answer."

_BELLA & HOTCH – MORGUE_

The smell of a morgue is something entirely unique. It's a strange mix of sterile and vile. The intense odor of rubbing alcohol, sanitizer and bleach lies just over the gut wrenching smell of decaying flesh, congealed bled and stomach bile. It's a contradiction of smells that is indescribable, unimaginable, and until you smell it yourself there is nothing that is even remotely comparable.

Bella and Hotch walk in together, pushing the swinging doors out of their way. In front of them was frail, tanned man with near-black eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He looked as though a small gust might blow the old man pushing 80 right onto his back.

"Dr. Esarra. This is Agent Hotchner with the FBI." Bella gestured to Hotch as Dr Esarra snapped off his glove and threw them into a nearby garbage can. Reaching a thin, long hand out, Dr Esarra gripped Hotch's hand with a vice-like grip that seemed so contradictory to his physical appearance.

"Fantastic to meet you! Might as well jump to the point. Your victim was Marianna DiLuca." He paused, gesturing wildly to her body that was covered modestly with a starch white sheet. "She's covered in bruises, head to toe, as well as lacerations around just her wrists."

"Any burn or stab marks?" Hotch asked as Dr Esarra paused to show her wrists.

"Burns, a few. They looked like old burns from cigarettes though. Like someone had put out cigarettes on the back of legs and upper arms. There were a few new ones on her hands though." Bella leaned forward, staring intently at the marred hands in front of her that still have a perfect manicure on them.

"But no knife wounds?"

"None."

"What was the cause of death?" Bella asked as she straightened up from her lowered position.

"Blunt force trauma to the back of the head."

"You sure? Was a tox screen done?"

"Bella! I'm insulted. Of course I ran a toxicology test. Her BAC was .10 and her poor liver has seen better days. No signs of any drug abuse, recreational or otherwise."

Hotch let out a long sigh. "Well she's not one of ours."

"I'll hand her off to someone else. Your teams should be back within the hour. Local deli sandwiches good for your team? The nearest one has mastered the perfect BLT."


	11. They're more like inferences

**October 16th - Las Vegas, Nevada**

Reid and JJ were the last to walk in to the large, smiling at the rest of the team, along with Bella and LJ.

"Now that you're here, let's order lunch quickly before settling in. We've got a deli, a pizza place and a Japanese place close by." Bella said quickly, always the one for no-nonsense.

"Deli sandwiches are good." Hotch answered with his back to the table, his focus on the bulletin board in front of him. Bella nodded and stuck her head out the door, yelling out to a passing officer to call their order in.

"What have we found so far?" Hotch asked, turning back to his team. One by one they took turns describing their respective crime scenes, from the dump site to everything approximately a mile in every direction.

"Our unsub must be using an ATV to dump the body. There were trails near each confirmed victim and there's no other way he could sneak in and out with the bodies any other way." Prentiss said to the room, Morgan nodding quickly.

"Well ATVs are not allowed in the section of the park where Duchamp's was found and the Forest Rangers are very strict about that. I find it hard to believe someone got past all the blockers and such." Bella said with a shake of her head.

"What about the rangers' ATVs with those extended beds? LJ mentioned them when we were at Duchamp's site. The bed's the perfect size to fit a body and having that vehicle will bypass those blockers and any rules." Prentiss questioned.

"You think our unsub is a ranger?" JJ asked back. Suddenly LJ ran from the room, not bothering to excuse himself like he usually does.

With a shrug from Bella Reid picked up from JJ. "I don't think so. If our unsub was any member for the Park and Rec department his comfort zone would be just the parks. Frankland's body was not found anywhere near a park. And their schedule doesn't allow for the specific time frame he needs to inflict that kind of damage. If our unsub-" Reid stopped as LJ pushed the door open again, a small print-out in his hand.

"Where'd you go?" Bella asked.

"You mentioned a Ranger's ATV. I remembered talking to Donovan about a report he received awhile ago of a stolen one from a nearby storage unit. It was there for a tire change. One of the rangers stopped by to pick it back up but the garage lock was picked and the ATV was gone."

"Any leads on whom?" Rossi asked as he flipped idly through the photos of the picked lock and ATVs."

"Not a clue. No fingerprints or tire tracks."

The room fell silent for a few moments as everyone stared at the faces on the bulletin board, along with the few photos of the crime scenes. A young officer knocked on the door, pushing it open quietly as he placed a platter of American heroes, potato salad and deli-sliced pickles on the table before leaving without a word.

"Let's start a profile on what we've got. After lunch we'll split up again and re-interview the families." Hotch said, leaving no room for argument. As the team grabbed a piece of the hero and settled in Morgan started. "We're looking for a white male, somewhere between the ages of 40 and 50."

"He lives in Summerlin. It's a clear comfort zone. And he's lived here, or a neighboring town, for most, if not all his life." Reid added as he pointed to the map that was covered in red pins for the dump sites and yellow pins for the victims' homes.

"Why narrow it so much? Why can't he be someone who moved here ten years ago or something like that? Why a local?" Bella asked with a tinge of annoyance at the thought that their unsub could be someone who's been under their noses for years. Being born and raised in Summerlin, she didn't like the thought of someone she's seen passing the streets, eating at the diner or even held a conversation with could be such a heartless killer.

"Well he's comfortable kidnapping people in broad daylight, meaning he's had plenty of time learning traffic flow, their daily routines, where police tend to patrol, and so on. The fact that he knew he'd need an ATV to dump the bodies, knew when to go so that he wasn't seen, knew what trails were often used, and was able to steal the ATV, store it and drive it around without getting caught means he's a long-time local that no one would think twice about seeing. Not to mention he has to keeping his victim somewhere no one will bother going to and who knows abandoned sites better than a kid who grew up in this town. On top of that, he's taken two victims from their jobs outside of Summerlin, which also leads credence to the fact that he's a local because he not only knows Summerlin in and out, but also it's neighboring towns." Reid stopped and took a bit of the sandwich in his hands, obvious to the incredulous stares of LJ and Bella as he spew out information almost too fast for their brains to follow.

LJ cleared his throat. "Well that clears that one up. So a white male who's grown up here? That's got be a long list of suspects, even with the age gap thrown in. I mean, I graduated with nearly 300 in my high school class, so that's at least 300 people in their 30s. I'm sure the amount in their 40s to 50s isn't much smaller. Summerlin's a big town and all the ordering towns aren't much smaller."

"Can you search based on someone of Swedish descent? His "calling card" is that weird Swedish phrase and since you're saying he's a local he can't be an immigrant." Bella asked as she reached over the table to grab another pickle.

Rossi shook his head. "I don't think we should just assume he's automatically Swedish. I could easily use any search engine to translate a phrase to any language I want. Nothing else points to him being Swedish. And he's only using that one phrase over and over again. If Swedish was his native tongue, or a second language, why not communicate more to us than just one phrase over and over again?"

"Okay…so we haven't narrowed this list down at all." LJ said as he hung his head slightly.

"We do know he's a control freak; none of the injures he gives them are life threatening and he choices to kill his victims with cyanide. He has complete control over when they die. This mentality of wanting complete control will take over all aspects of his life. His coworkers, family, and friends are bound to notice this." Rossi stated.

"But how do we narrow a search down by personality traits?"

"We don't. Not yet at least. Once we've narrowed the parameters more and given out our profile to all the police officers, we'll do a press release with these added, personality traits. And we'll know more about him as a person once we figure out why these victims."

Bella let out a heavy sigh before getting up and walking over to the bulletin board. "We have no idea how they're connected. I've compared everything from previous jobs and social media likes to where they went to school and where they do their grocery shopping. There's nothing that overlaps on all four."

"He had to have met all these people somehow. And he has to know a lot about them since he found the perfect opportunities to abduct them." Prentiss added. "These victims had to have crossed his path enough times and with enough impact that he decided to target them."

"But at the same time, all the victims are somewhat local figures. Everyone knows Duchamps; he was big news when he moved his business to the US. And all the locals know Frankland and Black from local TV, newspaper and radio ads. If our guys a local like you say, it still means it could be anyone." LJ added as he stood up and threw out his and Bella's garbage. Bella smiled and thanked him quietly before picking up from where he left off. "And both Black and Frankland worked in areas full of controversy and lawsuits. They've crossed paths with hundreds of people."

Rossi sighed. "Okay, we won't know how they're connected till we get more info from their families. If we can get a clear idea of who the unsub is we can get a clearer image of why he's targeting people at all."

"We know the unsub has a job where he can be home for long periods of time to torture his victims. But he also has to kill and dump his victims on a set schedule." Morgan started before being interrupted by Bella.

"Fine, but here's something I don't get," Bella paused, making sure she had Morgan's attention. "Why does following a schedule with killing mean he has a time-sensitive job? Maybe he's got some weird OCD? Or what if he only gets entertainment out of them for a week?"

"Because Duchamps was dead for 48 hours before our unsub dumped his body. Why hold on to his body for two days while Frankland was dead only four hours before being dumped? The only thing that explains that inconsistency is a consistency in his time spent at and away from home. So he works a job where he either has to travel or can work from home on and off." Hotch answered for Morgan.

"I don't know. It's not that I'm questioning your skills or anything. I just don't think making assumptions like what job he works or even his age will help us. What if we end up taking him off our suspect list because he doesn't fit your profile?"

LJ looked down nervously before placing a land on Bella's knee and squeezing softly, a comforting gesture he had become accustom to doing when he sees her stressing out.

Prentiss smiled sympathetically at LJ before speaking up. "It's true that profiles can be wrong. It's rare but does happen. If we didn't make some jumps, some assumptions, the unsub will be left a mystery for far too long."

"And assumption really isn't the correct word. They're more like inferences; educated and supported guesses." Reid added quickly.

"Well. The only way we can back up our, inferences, is by collecting more data. We'll stay in the same groups as before. JJ and Reid, go interview Frankland's husband. Ask if she had any issues with previous or current cases. Rossi and Morgan, you two go interview Black's partners. Look for any disgruntled employees or patients. LJ and Prentiss, you two can talk to Duchamp's wife. She only speaks French but I'm sure you can handle translating over video-chat. Bella and I will go talk to his business partner." Hotch stood up from the table, signaling for everyone to disperse.


	12. She didn't know that I knew

**October 16th – Las Vegas, Nevada**   
**JJ & Reid – Frankland residence**

The house was quaint and welcoming from the outside. It was a light blue Victorian with a tan roof, the windows framed in a matching color. The planters on the window-sill were filled with a range of petunias; all perfect the same height as if someone had taken a scissor to them to keep them in line. A stone walkway led to the staircase of the wraparound porch, furnished with the stereotypical wicker furniture and potted fern.

“Nice house.” JJ said in passing as they walked up to the large oak door. “Very…quaint.”

“Did you know that the style got its name because they were built during the reign of Queen Victoria, from 1837 to 1901. If you really want to be specific this house is actually in the American Queen Anne style which if you ask me, is the nicest choice of all Victorian style houses.”

“That doesn’t surprise me too much. I could picture you in a house like this with a library in one of the towers.”

“Next time we have a case in Minnesota I’ll take you to Irvine Park Historic District. There’s a house there, the Murray-Lanpher House, which is absolutely gorgeous.” Reid stopped to ring the doorbell. “There are a few houses in Virginia that are similar to it but everyone always paints them flashy colors that take away from the house as a whole.”

“You and Sophia looking at houses-?” JJ stopped short as a short man pulled open the door, a child of about two sitting quietly on his hip.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Hi. Are you Jeremy Frankland? We’re with the FBI and we’d like to ask a few questions about your wife.” JJ said with a small smile as she showed him her badge. She looked the man up and down quickly and had a hard time placing him with Louisa Frankland, or at least not the Louisa Frankland depicted in her file; a cold, ruthless lawyer who’s paycheck typically went to Manolo Blahniks, Fendi bags, pearl earrings from Dior, and a monthly dinner at a restaurant that would set her back at least $200. In fact, looking through her finances, there were little to no purchases made at stores that one would expect any adult would visit, like grocery, toy or book stores. She was a woman who put all her stock in her appearance, making sure she forever visually stood out as a powerful woman in a male-dominated career. Most would say she didn’t have to since her education, conviction rate and overall experience put her well above her colleagues, she was still held fast to the belief that looking successful on paper was not nearly as important as looking successful in person.

The man standing in front of her, Jeremy Frankland, seemed to her to be the complete opposite of Louisa. He was slightly overweight with just a little extra weight around the middle and just barely JJ’s height, most likely dwarfed by Louisa when she wore heels. He had a full head of wavy brown hair and a pair of thin, plastic eyeglasses. Overall his appearance usually led people to believe he was an IT expert or financial adviser. In truth Jeremy Frankland was an eighth grade History teacher with a love of baseball, antique maps, and knew very little about computers.  
Jeremy let out a little sigh before stepping back and ushering the two agents in. “Sure. Let me just get Sadie and Nick set up with a movie in the playroom. I don’t like talking about this type of stuff in front of them. You can sit here.” He walked in, pointing to a small kitchen nook that sat through a doorway on the right. He walked through with them, motioning for his son Nick, who looked to be around five, to follow. The boy was quiet and avoided looking in the direction of the agents. He was a shy kid who didn’t like any sort of guests, especially now that all they wanted to do was talk about his mother, a subject he avoided worse than the black plague.

Jeremy followed the kids into a small playroom around a corner and asked them what movie they wanted to watch while he talked in the kitchen with “the nice man and woman in the kitchen.” Nick didn’t say anything while Sadie excitedly asked for “Monster’s Inc.,” her most recent movie obsession.

It took a few minutes before Jeremy finally re-entered the kitchen. “So…what else do you want to know about Louisa? I’m guessing her murder is related to those other ones I’ve read about.” He said exhausted and rather despondent.

“We believe so and we need to know if your wife had any interactions with these victims.” JJ pulled out photos of the other victims.

“I’ll look but to be completely honest I didn’t exactly…socialize…with the same people my wife did. I typically spend my time with my kids and with some teachers from the History and English department on occasion.”

“How long have you and your wife been separated?” Reid asked suddenly as JJ finished laying out the photos.

“How’d you know?” Jeremy didn’t bother looking at Reid. He simply scanned the photos, his eyes showing no recognition.

“You have a tan line from your watch but not your ring so you obviously haven’t been wearing your ring for quite some time. You used the word ‘socialize’ but your face and tone says otherwise. And there’s the fact that you didn’t deny the accusation or ask me why I thought that.” Reid paused and looked at JJ’s disapproving face. “I’m sorry, that was really forward of me. I didn’t mean to, I mean I’m sure your wife was-”

“It’s fine.” He cut him off quickly. “I wore it on the rare occasion she wanted to go out and impress someone or some client but I never really bothered to wear it day-to-day. Our marriage has been nonexistent for a few years now.”

"Do you remember anything significant the day your wife disappeared? Can you think of any one who want to harm your wife?" JJ asked, taking pressure off of Reid who was still looking embarrassingly at his feet.

Jeremy stopped fidgeting with his hands and stared intently at the floor. "I mean, nothing was really different. She hadn't been home for about three days prior; she left for work on the 5th and after that she stayed 'late at work' as she often would every few weeks."

JJ waited, sensing more to come. Jeremy glanced around the corner, making sure the kids were actually listening to the movie before focusing back on JJ.

"Listen, I don't think I'm the right person to be talking to. It's been years since I could say that I genuinely knew my wife. She's been having an affair with someone, god only knows who, for at least a year as far as I know. It could have been longer. If you want to know what her last days were like, I'm sure that guy knows. She didn't know that I knew...but I did."

"When was the last time she was home for any extended period of time?' Reid cut in.

"Geez, I'm not really sure." He suddenly let out a disgruntled chuckle. "You know, if you look at her finances and find a period where she wasn't paying for a hotel room or some fancy dinner bill, then you'd know when she was last home. And I think the fact that Sadie hasn't once asked for her or cried for her says it all, agents. My wife was nothing more than a passing stranger to my kids."

JJ nodded sadly, glancing at the kids who suddenly started laughing at whatever scene was playing on the TV now.

"I'm sorry." Reid said with a pause. He wasn't sure if he was saying sorry to man who had just lost his wife to a murderer or if he was sorry for the fact that he really had lost his wife years ago. "If you can remember anything, even if it seems insignificant, please give us a call." Reid said, handing Jeremy a card with his number on it.

"I will. And please, if you do find out anything about my wife and who did this to her, please let me know. I still care for her." He agents nodded and headed towards the door. As Jeremy opened the door he paused. "Oh wait! You know what, she did receive a phone call on our house phone. She had just had an interview about two weeks prior to going missing with the Las Vegas Review. It was a weird because as far as I know, she never gives our house number away. I'm not sure how they got our number but it was just a quick voicemail asking her to call them back." Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

With another quick thank you JJ and Reid got back into the car and made their way to the precinct.


	13. I like keeping you guessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that awkward moment when you thought you posted this chapter like two months ago but apparently you didn't...OOPS...Don't worry, I've been hard at work with the next chapter.
> 
> I've been utterly swamped with work and grad school so sadly writing has had to take a back seat. Hopefully things will change soon...

**October 16th – Las Vegas, Nevada  
7:00pm – Las Vegas Precinct**

“Okay. What do we have?”

Rossi and Morgan quickly listed six high profile lawsuits against Black, two of which were wrongful death suits, as well as a recent online protest against the use of Buprenorphines and the ASAM in general. Nothing two detrimental to his or anyone else’s career.

JJ quickly ran through what Jeremy had told them about his wife and the lack of relationship they had.

“Jeremy also mentioned a recent interview his wife did for the Las Vega Review-Journal.” Reid added as he looked at Hotch.

“I’m sure you could pull up a copy of it on one of our computers.” Bella said without looking up from the file she was reading, thinking nothing of her comment. Rossi let out a little chuckle before standing up. 

“I’ll go print you a copy.”

Bella looked up with confusion before seeing Hotch’s little smile and assuming it was probably something to chalk up to Reid’s quirky personality she’s quickly picked up on.

“Hey Rossi. Duchamp’s got some articles written about him too. Want to print them out for Reid too?” Prentiss rushed out before Rossi closed the door behind him. With a quick salute towards her, he closed the door.

“Any others mention an article?” Hotch asked but was quickly answered by a chorus of no’s. “We’ll have to call Garcia in the morning and have her see if she can dig up any more articles.” Rossi walked back in with about six papers, four of them stapled together.

“Duchamp’s article was written by The Las Vegas Sun.” Rossi dropped the two articles in front of Reid.

“Did you know that the Las Vegas Review-Journal has been around since 1909? It’s actually the largest circulating daily newspaper in Nevada. Its circulation on Sunday runs approximately 204,040 papers and its daily circulation is approximately 172,360 papers. It’s been consistently ranked as number 22 out of the top 25 US Newspapers. And The Las Vegas Sun, though it was once its own paper, it is now owned by Greenspun Media Group and is now include as a section inside the pages of The Las Vegas Review-Journal.”

“Reid, you may find this hard to believe, but we didn’t actually know this.” Morgan said with a laugh which only grew as Reid blushed more.

“Speak for yourself Agent Morgan. I knew it was its own newspaper before being added to the Review. I’ve actually been to their headquarters in Henderson.” LJ said before giving Reid a pat on his back, not paying much attention to unconscious cringe from Reid that followed.

Reid scanned through the articles quickly. “Well Duchamp’s was written in 2005, right after he announced his move to the US. And that was when the Sun was its own newspaper. It’s more about his business, less about him.”

“I’m sorry, but why did you ask Agent Rossi to print those out if you’ve already read them?” Bella asked incredulously.

Reid opened his mouth trying to think the best way to answer her question without having to face a barrage of questions and disbelief. “Well…I…”

“Reid’s a genius. He can read fast. Don’t ask for an explanation because you’ll probably regret it.” Morgan answered with a smile before messing with Reid’s hair.

“You do that whole, scanning with the subconscious thing, right? I read a study once that said the subconscious can read, like, three times faster than the conscious brain. It was talking about things like how we don’t read in a straight line but actually in a sequence of jumping movements, and we naturally reread sentences and that most people don’t use their peripheral vision to read, which, like, limits the amount of a sentence you can take in at once.” LJ said with a smile. “I’d love to learn how…if you have any helpful hints, you know…” He shrugged before looking at his partner who looked surprisingly impressed and slightly dubious at the same time. “What? Don’t look so surprised. I find reading relaxing.”

“No. I’m surprised that you’ve actually researched speed reading. That’s all.” Bella looked down at the file in her hand, trying to hide a small smile that was growing on her face.

“I like keeping you guessing.” LJ gave her a nudge and wink when she finally looked up at him and laughed as he was greeted with a typically roll of her eyes. 

“It’s not too hard to learn. The most common two practices are trackers and pacers and then perceptual expansion.” Reid added with a smile, oblivious to the flirting between the two detectives. 

Hotch cleared his throat. “What did the article say about Frankland?”

“A lot about her role in Everette-Duvall. She’s got an impeccable conviction rate. It ends with a short piece about her family; her high school sweetheart husband, her two lovely children, and how she spends her free-time just relaxing with her kids at home.”

JJ scuffed. “Well that’s a load of bull. Just looking at her finances says otherwise. Her poor husband was pretty much a single father who had to live with the fact that his wife was sleeping around and there was nothing he could do about it.”

“Who was she having an affair with?”

“He didn’t actually know. He knew she was paying for hotel stays and dinner that had nothing to do with ‘business’ as she would tell him. They hadn’t had any physical intimacy since their daughter was born two and a half years ago. And she was rarely home. Their daughter, Sadie, hasn’t even asked for her mom yet. That just goes to show you how little that woman actually saw her children. And poor Jeremy felt like he couldn’t leave because he knew he would only get visitation rights because he made less in comparison and they had no prenup.” 

“Did Duchamp’s wife have anything negative to say about her husband?”

LJ and Prentiss shook their heads. In fact, they had little to nothing to add from Duchamp’s wife. She had been a sobbing mess who couldn’t understand how the US hadn’t found her husband’s killer yet.

“His partner, Peterson,” Hotch started “was a little more forthcoming. Apparently Duchamp’s was anti-union. He’s been stonewalling the union since his business opened up; missing union meetings, refusing to negotiate, delaying contract changes. He’s made the union essentially useless for his employees because they’re so wrapped up in red tape. We’ve got a list of onsite injuries that go back as far as 2006 that still aren’t paid for.”

“Peterson is scrambling to fix relations before the business goes belly-up. Apparently half these cases weren’t even filed with the Workman’s Compensation Board.” Bella added.

“So we’ve got a number of suspects. Patient’s families, a scorned husband, hurt employees, overwhelmed business partners…” LJ sighed. 

“Frankland could to be the connection. She’s a lawyer. She could be involved in a number of lawsuits that tie back to Duchamp’s employees and Black’s patients.” Bella said somewhat excitedly.

“Not likely. Frankland doesn’t have a history of dealing with lawsuits against companies. She usually handles sexual harassment, assault and domestic abuse cases.” Hotch said with little interest. “Lawsuit cases and wrongful deaths are a whole other ball-game.”

“So we’ve got nothing yet again…” Bella said with a huff.

“We can eliminate Frankland’s cases since it’s highly unlikely any of them overlap with Duchamps and Black. Her connection is most likely on a personal matter; an affair gone awry or the significant other of someone she cheated with. Whoever our unsub is, they were personally hurt by Frankland.”

“And probably Duchamps and Black as well. There’s no obvious cross-over of patients and employees. That was our first assumption. You think maybe a family member? Possible someone who was hurt on the job at Duchamps and then saw a relative fail to recover with Black. And then, what, had their marriage broken up by Frankland? Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”

“Again, it sounds like we’ve got nothing.” Bella said throwing her hands up in frustration.

“A profile can’t be built just off of a few immediate interviews and a look at crime-scenes. It’s only day one. No reason to get disappointed already. We haven’t even begun to truly sort out what we’ve gained from today.” Rossi responded sympathetically.

“And if you don’t mind Hotch, I’d like to stay here tomorrow to work on the geographical profile more as well as work with Garcia. Something doesn’t feel right about the signature. It doesn’t fit.” Reid said as he flipped through the papers he had scattered in front of him, not bothering to elaborate on what wasn’t sitting with him. And Hotch knew better than to ask. If it was important he knew Reid would soon explain.

“Garcia’s going have a lot of work to do tomorrow weeding through lawsuits, articles, and personal connections. It certainly won’t hurt for her to have some help.” Hotch sighed exhaustedly and looked down at his wrist. “We’ll meet up again tomorrow morning.” With that everyone stood, mumbling their quiet ‘good nights’ as they all made their way to the parking lot.


End file.
